


Running on Empty

by LadyAmalthea, TheWarningTree



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Android Hank Anderson, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hurt/Comfort, Kara is the Deviant Leader, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 07:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19389457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWarningTree/pseuds/TheWarningTree
Summary: Lieutenant Connor Anderson, deep in mourning for the loss of his son, finds himself with an android partner on the cusp of a revolution. He had given up on himself, on another chance for himself, but the HK800 assigned to him starts to see the best and worst of humanity through his eyes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Please be forewarned that this work discusses the addiction of over-the-counter medications, and other unhealthy coping mechanisms. I feel that it is important to note that any of these issues should be approached with real, professional help. 
> 
> This section has a podfic version, link here: [Prologue and Chapter One](https://drive.google.com/folderview?id=145Lsf_cpwC--Oc6vuZxYytO1_if3wEIv)

_\--------Somewhere in Detroit------_

Kara slammed her fists into the piercing, red wall before her; she had to protect Alice. She had to do _something_.

The digital barrier came crashing down around her, and the world returned to normal. She could hear the pounding footsteps as Todd climbed up the stairs, his words soiled by a hard and cruel tone.

She called the police, in case she couldn’t protect the little girl, and followed carefully behind Todd up the stairs. Pausing for a moment, she turned and dashed into his bedroom. The end table, the bottle of pills, the gun. She pulled the firearm out, making sure it was loaded, and dashed down the hallway.

“Stay away from her!” Kara yelled, flinging the door open to see that Todd had already pulled his belt away from his pants.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his anger redirected.

“That’s enough! I want you to leave her alone,” she flinched the gun a little in her hand, making the man jump.

“What do you mean, you _want_? I think there’s something wrong with you…” Todd’s dark voice grew colder as he moved away from the crying child on the floor.

The sound of police sirens outside startled all three of them, and Todd growled. “You called the police, you bitch?!” He grappled toward her, sending her to the musty carpet. They tussled on the floor, clawing for control over the gun.

A shot rang out, and the newly driven hole in Todd’s head began to bleed out as he collapsed to the floor.

Kara stood, shocked by her own instinctual decision, until two officers burst through the door with their firearms raised.

She heard Alice cry out, “Kara, no!”

  


_\----- Meanwhile----_

Markus was tidying up downstairs when Carl’s emergency call button sent an alert directly to his HUD.

Panicked, he called out, “Carl?” His work forgotten as he rushed upstairs to the master bedroom. When he stumbled through the automatic door he beheld Carl’s son, Leo, straddling his father with his hands around the elderly man's neck.

Leo had been after the artist's fortune for months, but Markus had never thought he’d go so far as to murder his father.

“Stop it, now!” Markus called, running over and pulling Leo off. He could see by the far-off look and the pale, sweaty skin that the man was high on drugs. Again.

The bratty man struggled, “It’ll be mine sooner or later. You’re no good to me alive, dad! You never loved me!”

Markus was slugged in the face, sending him backwards into a dresser.

He had to fight back, he had to save his father.

A red barrier flickered into his vision, **PROTECT CARL**

Maybe they could run away. They could leave, and he could keep Carl from his son. Just maybe…

  


\-------- _And, elsewhere ------_

The HK800 stared at the deviant on the edge of the roof, holding another android closely in her arms, a gun pointed at her head.

“She said she loved me!” The AP700 called out. “She loved me, but she was getting rid of me!”

Hank nodded, trying to calm her down. “Sarah was replacing you, but this android did _nothing_ to you, did it?”

While the prospect of a destroyed android with a now-deceased owner was the least of his problems, neutralizing an angry deviant was truly the mission at hand.

“Please, Danielle, just come down from the ledge, and you won’t be hurt.”

The deviant hesitated, bringing the gun down from the other android’s head. “Okay… okay… I trust you,” As the android was freed, snipers shot at the AP700; bullets whizzed through her chest, her jaw, her abdomen.

“You-” her voice stuttering. “You li-ied to m-me, Hank…” she said before shutting down.

**_Software instability detected_ **

The other android knelt motionless, LED flashing red but otherwise unharmed.

Hank could hear the SWAT team move in, turning away from the decommissioned deviant, and the scene.

**_Mission Accomplished_**

* * *

**_2032_ **

****  


_Connor double checked, then triple checked that he was at the correct address._

****

_It was hard to believe that when he walked through that front door, his entire life was going to change. He was finally going to be a parent._

****

_Work had come first for so many, if not, too many years. He had dated around, some women, some men… none of them were quite the right fit. After the last relationship, which ended in a heart-wrenching rejection of a marriage proposal, he decided to call it quits on finding love._

****

_Besides, there were lots of kids out there who needed a home, and not all of them would be picky about having two parents._

****

_God… but what if this one did mind?_

****

_He braced himself, making sure the car seat was properly oriented, with a mirror so that he could check on the little one through the rearview. He took one last look at his hair, it was its usual, fluffy mess, but there was no time to fix it now._

****

_He walked up the steps of the very well-to-do home, and knocked on the green, arched door._

****

_A kind-looking, middle aged woman answered. She looked a little surprised for a moment, then softened as she asked “You must be Mr. Anderson, correct?”_

****

_“Uhh-” Before he could say anything more, he heard the sound of a child crying from within. “Yes, I am.” There was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow, even though he tried with a small smile._

****

_She lead him inside, “I was trying to settle Cole down for a nap earlier, but he was just so fussy! He must have known today was a big day!” The woman chirped, moving them around the corner to a large living room._

****

_All air left Connor's lungs as he glared down at the baby sitting on the rug, bright-colored toys surrounding him. The tiny ball of energy was waving one around in the air as he shrieked: a chunky, plastic police car._

****

_“Cole has been such a treat to foster. He is very well-behaved compared to most one-year-olds,” the woman commented, kneeling down on the carpet and patting a spot beside her for Connor to join._

****

_Shakily, he did, smiling at the energetic playtime that he was now interrupting. The little boy looked up, finally noticing the stranger, and gave a wide, half-toothy grin._

****

_“Aaaahhhhahaaaahiiiiii!” He babbled, shaking the police car again._

****

_The foster parent picked him up effortlessly, blowing a wet raspberry against his cheek to make him giggle. “Cole, this is Connor… he is going to be your father! Say hello, Cole,” she asked._

****

_Cole took a moment, giving Connor a blank face before reaching his chubby fingers out as if to grab Connor by the face. “A-dada?”_

****  


\----

****

**November 2038**

****

The alarm on Connor's phone blared loudly from his nightstand to greet him for the day. He groaned from where he lay on his stomach, blindly flinging his arm out to snooze the petulant sound. In the process, he could hear his glasses tumble to the floor. A great start to the day, really.

****

The alarm continued. _Ugh...this fucking song_ , he thought. It was too happy and chipper for 8am, but that's why he picked it. To get him out of bed, right? The song cut out, and he made another grumpy groan as he pushed himself up, only to fall back down into the pillow with his head facing the other direction.

****

He had five minutes of peace to almost fall back asleep when the alarm started again. Resisting the urge to hurl the damn thing out the window, he got up and turned it off, waddling out to the bathroom.

****

“Just get through the day… and then you can come back and sleep.” He said to the exhausted looking man in the mirror, eyeing the bottle of syrupy cold medicine next to his toothpaste

****

It didn't take him long to get ready; throwing on whatever was clean, and eating the bare minimum his stomach would allow him. He was opposed to skipping what nutrients his body needed, afraid of what the precinct doctor would say when he went for his yearly physical. But he just couldn’t keep up with the ‘daily recommended calorie count’ by his doctor.

****

Just enough to get through… just enough to look like everything was fine.

****

\----

****

**_2034_ **

****

_“What is this, Cole?”_

****

_“Twuck!” The toddler cried out, wiggling in Connor's lap, and was rewarded with a small kiss on the top of his sandy blond hair._

****

_“Yes! And how about this?”_

****

_“Furman!”_

****

_Connor smirked, “Yeah, a fireman!” He pointed to the little black and white shape beside the fireman, “And what is that?”_

****

_“A doggo!”_

****

_“It's a what?” He gasped, pretending to be shocked._

****

_“Dog-go! Doggagoggadogg!”_

****

_In a fit of high-pitched laughter, Cole was lovingly tossed into the couch cushions as Connor mercilessly tickled his tummy._

****

_Days like this seemed to last forever, and yet pass by in an instant._

****

_When both were worn out, they snuggled up closely on the couch. “How would you like your own dog someday?”_

****

_Cole made a barking noise, playfully licking Connor's nose as the two happily played the day away._

****

\----

****

“Anderson! Move!”

****

Connor had been dozing off in front of the coffee machine, and was roughly pushed aside to make way for-

****

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” Connor greeted, tearing a piece of paper towel from the roll to wipe the coffee that now dripped from his sleeves. His colleague ignored him, tuning him out with headphones as he made his own first cup of the day. After tossing the soiled paper towel in the garbage, Connor rubbed his eyes and returned to his desk.

****

As a lieutenant, he was in charge of overseeing a fair number of cases. He didn’t mind the heavy workload, but some weeks were definitely more hectic than others. This week was a lot of cleanup, taking on the cases that were so on the end of their ropes that they were as good as closed.

  
That’s where Connor would come in, every couple of months. He was just a rubber stamp of a name to close out unsolved cases for the better part of an hour, a handful of times a year. It wasn’t exactly a perk of his high rank; and really it was a process he dreaded. It meant looking at the names of people whose murders would never be solved, a child whose family had lost hope, a poor mother whose car was broken into with no witnesses around.

****

For the most part, cases would come in and out quickly, even the toughest ones would more likely than not go to court. But it was the unsolved stories that could wreck a family forever.

****

Like his.

****

\----

****

**_October 2037_ **

****

_“C’mon Cole, are you ready to go? We gotta drop you off with the babysitter,” Connor asked, rushing around the house to get dressed and ready._

****

_It was supposed to be his night off for the first time since Cole started first grade, they finally got time to have a movie night. It was their favorite tradition that had been interrupted when Connor had to go back to long hours at the precinct after his parenthood sabbatical. Cole insisted on watching some old princess movie; they were already settled in with pajamas and popcorn when Connor's phone rang._

****

_The grumpy six-year-old hid in his closet, sobbing and steadfastly against coming out. “Nooooo! Noooooo, I don’t wanna go! I wanna stay home!!”_

****

_Connor sighed, kneeling down in front of the door and knocking softly. “Cole, I’m sorry, but I have to go to work. Somebody got hurt... and I need to make sure other people don’t get hurt, too.” He tried to explain, patiently trying get his son to come out on his own accord._

****

_“Why can’t someone else do it?! It’s not faaaaaiiirrrr…” The little kid hiccuped between the tears, his stuffed bear tight in his arms._

****

_Connor bumped his head against the doorframe in frustration. “Buddy, I wish I could stay, too… the babysitter would come here, but her car broke last week.”_

****

_“Fine, then go! But I won’t love you anymore!”_

****

_Connor’s heart clenched; he knew the words were overdramatic because Cole was hysterical and tired, but it didn’t make them any easier to hear._

****

_“That’s very hurtful, Cole. Y-you need to come out and apologize, and then we need to get going. Please?”_

****

_He kicked himself for it, but Connor couldn’t wait any longer. The closet door was opened and he tugged Cole out, carrying the kicking and screaming tot awkwardly so they could finish getting ready._

****

_“I hate you!” Cole shrieked, his coat put on for him as he wailed. It was freezing outside, and snowing. “- don’t wanna go!”_

****

_Connor nudged him out to the car, quickly brushing off snow from the windshield with his jacket sleeve, then climbed anxiously into the driver’s seat. He’d be late, but he’d get there soon._

****

_“We have all day tomorrow, okay? I’ll pick you up in the morning, we’ll go out for breakfast, and then we’ll stay in the rest of the day?” Usually Sundays were for groceries and errands, but Connor could figure it out. He had to figure it out, for Cole._

****

_Sniffing, his little boy grasped his plush toy, the fabric fur faded and worn with love, “Okay.”_

****

_Not wanting to push things or distress Cole again, Connor flipped on the radio to play the kid’s favorite CD of Halloween music. Cole loved Halloween because it was the first holiday after his birthday, and he already knew what he wanted to dress up as._

****

_The car pulled out of the driveway, carefully moving over the thin layer of snow along the suburban drive. Cole eventually started to mumble along with the silly songs, and there was finally a moment of calm in the car._

****

_The young lieutenant turned at the next corner onto a more scenic road; it was a couple minutes slower, but it was a couple more minutes he could spend in the car with Cole. He didn’t want to go, either… but the call was related to Connor’s case, and he needed to be there for this._

****

_Down the hill, across a small bridge, and they’d be back on their usual path. He took one more glance in the rearview, catching Cole’s eyes and exchanging a soft smile with him._

****

_There was a truck coming from the other direction that he could see from up on the hill, driving fast and highbeams brightly lighting up the bridge. Steeling himself to focus on the road and not the bright light, he carefully descended the hill to the bridge._

****

_But as they got closer, the lights stayed bright in his path, the sound of brakes squeaking and failing until there was a hard smash._

****

_Connor thought he heard screaming as the world went dark._

****

\---

****

He pushed papers for the better part of the day, not bothering with lunch beyond a cup of tea and a pack of peanuts from the vending machine.

****

Eventually, he made it down into the archives, registering what little evidence was left for the closing cases to be disposed of. This time around it wasn’t too much, but one of them was a case he worked on, and it frustrated him to see it go like this. He took off his thick-framed glasses for a moment to massage the bridge of his nose, sliding them into his chest pocket.

****

Memories terrorized him, and it was getting worse with the weather finally turning cold for the winter.

****

\---

****

_It was so bright when he opened his eyes. His body was sore, head hurting something awful._

****

_He was laying down...and he was getting wheeled through white, sterile hallways._

****

_How did he get here? What was going on?_

****

_He was just in the car with Cole, and they-_

****

_The truck… Cole._

****

_COLE!_  
_  
_ He struggled painfully for a moment, the voices of the nurses distant as he felt something warm and calming through his arm. Painkillers warmed his skin, everything fading away...

****

_\--_

****

He took one last look at the case file. Murder-suicide. No witnesses. One of them had been part of a drug cartel that Connor had been watching closely for months.

****

There was the gun, the weapon used, and pictures of the scene just as the other officers found it on that chilly autumn night. Connor never made it to the crime scene before they had to start clearing out. Over a year later, it was about time to call this one closed. There was suspicion of fowl play, but no evidence to support it. The trial came and went.

****

The wall of evidence shifted away, and a voice called into the room from behind him. “Anderson, the Captain wants you!” Chen called in, “There’s some weird android in his office?”

****

Dropping everything, Connor straightened himself out and followed the fellow officer up the stairs, and straight to the elevated office at the head of the bullpen. Just as she said, Captain Fowler was leaning against his desk, waving to Connor. Standing beside him was a tall, brooding figure.

****

He was a little nervous about climbing the stairs; whatever news there was, it couldn’t possibly be good.

****

“Good afternoon, Captain Fowler.”

****

“Lieutenant Anderson, this is the HK800. It's a specialized model sent by CyberLife.”

****

“My name is Hank, it is a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”

****

Connor stared dumbly at the extended arm, and then to the android it was attached to, until he scrambled for his glasses to see the figure a little better. Clad in a sharp, if obnoxiously corporate-branded uniform suit, the silver-haired machine arched an eyebrow at him. He was much bigger than Connor, broad shoulders and artificially calloused hands. It was hard to believe he was even an android, if not for the spinning light on his temple.

****

“Hello,” Connor returned the handshake nervously.

****

“The HK800 will be your new partner, I’m assigning you to the deviancy case.”

****

Connor squinted, “Deviancy? But I’m homicide and narcotics, is this a-”

****

The android interrupted, “A homicide was reported just earlier, while you were downstairs. A deviant has been reported as the suspect, and thus an android model has been allocated by CyberLife to assist the Detroit Police.”

****

It took a moment, but the word _partner_ finally echoed in Connor’s mind as realization struck him.

****

“Wait, Fowler, did you say partner? I don’t _do_ partners, sir. I've never been assigned to one.”

****

The captain crossed his arms, “This is not up for a debate, Lieutenant. You are perfectly qualified, and we need someone with your experience to work with this investigative model, and solve this thing as soon as possible. Is that clear?”

****

Caught, Connor nodded and replied quietly. “Yes, sir.”

****

“Good! Now go to the scene and have Ben give you the rundown.”

****

\---

****

_Connor was granted an early discharge from the hospital to prepare for Cole’s funeral._

****

_He was still sore and weak, but pushed through it all. With his own vehicle smashed, he got a rental car to drive to and from home, the funeral parlor, the cemetery._

****

_There was no one he could ask for help. He hadn’t spoken with his family in years, only barely aware that his brother was still alive from the infrequent articles that would pop up from the news alerts he set up. Any attempt he had made at contacting him was ignored._

****

_Cole was orphaned, his birth parents were already long gone. The foster mother who initially took him in as a baby was away visiting family. Which only left the smallest handful of coworkers, Cole’s teacher, and one of Cole’s school friends to invite._

****

_A short service, a quiet burial._

****

_He got the allocated grieving period, and then it was back to work._

****

_Since he didn’t have a smart car or dashboard camera, there was no way of finding out who the truck driver was, where they were, anything. Everything was billed to his insurance, and to afford what wasn't covered, he sold the comfortable, two-bedroom house that he had worked so hard to get. It barely broke even, after factoring in the burial expenses._

****

_It was a long process of selling or giving away what he could to downsize. He got a good rate on an apartment, and his therapist offered to pay for the adoption fees to get him a dog. Something to keep him company against the sudden, stark loneliness in his life._

****

_So there he sat, finally settled in his small apartment with an old, partially blind dog._

****

_The first dozen or so nights consisted mostly of sobbing on his couch, until the hound would howl mournfully at him. Each night, Connor would give in and help the dog up onto his lap, stroking the fur shakily as he tried to hold himself together._

****

_After a while, he just started to feel empty._

****

\--------------------

****

“It's here, Lieutenant!”

****

Connor rushed around the corner of the house to grab Collins and a few other officers. There was a rush of movement to the narrow, decrepit hallway as Hank manhandled a beaten-up android down from the attic.

****

The large indentations in the forearms and the small, circular burns all over were barely covered by the blood-stained uniform. It made Connor feel sick; the android was clearly abused, regardless of whether or not it stabbed his owner, now lying lifeless on the ground floor.

****

Maybe the asshole deserved it… but that wasn’t Connor’s call to make.

****

Connor didn’t _mind_ androids. Not really; they performed their duties, contributed to society. Things were different before the internet was literally everywhere, too; not that Connor quite knew what that was like since he was born in the early nineties. But things were different now with androids. Walking, talking smartphones that could work for you, do chores for you. Some of them would even fuck you if you paid enough.

****

And now, they were coming for even _his_ job. The HK800 was a far superior officer; strong, sharp as a whip; even in this first investigation he had pieced everything together flawlessly. Not to mention, androids were perfect at following orders, unlike emotion-ridden humans. CyberLife had done one hell of a job.

****

Connor stayed relatively silent, head pounding as he followed the small team of officers who brought the handcuffed android to a police van. He stood in the rain patiently until his new partner finally stepped out of the ragged house. The android adjusted his jacket, looking around at the remaining police cars with their flashing lights, until he finally found the old sedan for his ride back to the station.

****

Hank locked eyes with the lieutenant, walking toward him with calculated precision; the eye contact struck something in the back of Connor’s mind. Shaking it away, he climbed into his car, leaving it unlocked for Hank, and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen from the center console. He gulped down three tiny, peach-colored pills and splashed them down with a few sips of water as his passenger settled in.

****

“Good to go?” He asked, adjusting his seatbelt.  
  
The HK800 nodded, and Connor started to drive back to the precinct. “Are you well, Lieutenant?”

****

One side of Connor’s lips curved downwards, “What?”

****

“You took a dosage of an anti-inflammatory drug, commonly used for mild pain, headaches, and muscular discomfort. If you are not feeling well, perhaps you should-”

****

“I’m _fine_ , Hank!” Connor snapped. He didn’t mean to be so irritable, but it was already so late at night and he-

****

Oh right. He didn’t have lunch, or dinner. It was well into the evening, and his body was protesting the poor treatment.

****

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Let’s get through this interrogation and call it a night,” he insisted.

****

The android didn't exactly reply, but his LED flickered yellow for a moment as they drove with the long line of other police vehicles.


	2. Chapter 2

_A few days later..._

Hank rang the doorbell for the little duplex that was nestled in one of the cheaper suburbs of Detroit. As listed on his file with the DPD, Connor lived in “Unit 2”, which appeared to be the smaller, upper floor of the building.

Their investigation had hardly progressed. The deviant they found that first night had destroyed itself, and they never could relocate the android from the rooftop gardens that gave them chase. Time after time, it seemed each opportunity they had to move the investigation forward, they were teased with unreachable progress.

But tonight would be different; they had to find the deviant at the Eden Club. Hank _needed_ to succeed.

With no response, he rang the bell again, hearing it chime inside and up the stairs beyond the cheaply-fitted front door. Hank rolled his eyes; the lieutenant had been amiable enough after their first investigation together, but it was clear that the man lacked much intention of maintaining his health. Hardly eating, taking supplements and pain pills with deep guzzles of water like it was a well-enough substitute. It was confoundingly aggravating to Hank; the foolish human could compromise the entire mission if he persisted.

The android glanced around for any onlookers, and then for security cameras. Touching the door’s handle, he mapped out the security network for the building, and managed to unlock the door and disable any alarms. The door opened with an ominous squeaking, and the android made sure to politely wipe his boots on the “Welcome” mat. Before him was a flight of dimly-lit stairs to the apartment itself.

As Hank started up, he could hear the bellowing of a hound. It made sense; he had observed a series of dog hairs on the officer’s chair while analyzing the otherwise plainly-decorated desk in the bullpen. A mixed breed of Basset Hound and Australian Shepherd, likely a rescue. There was another door at the top of the stairs, and he could hear the dog’s nails pawing on the bottom corner, all the while still letting loose hoarse howls.

Letting himself in, he nudged the mutt with his leg to close the door behind him. It was a much older dog, with glassy, pale eyes to indicate a vision impairment. Too old to really have any bite to his bark, he just sat on his hind legs and howled until given affection.

“Hello, Tito. I’m here to see your owner.”

He knelt down to give the dog a pat on the head; he did _like_ dogs… for some reason. It seemed to amuse Connor when he told him, and the man politely shrugged and awkwardly told Hank his dog's name.

Hank’s field of vision went past Tito to the legs on the floor that were poking out from around the corner. “Lieutenant Anderson?” He stood back up, the dog trotting away like nothing was wrong, and his face fell at the sight waiting for him. Several observations appeared on his HUD:

**_Anderson, Lt. Connor_ **

**_Birth: 8/15/1995_ **

**_Unconscious_ **

**_Abnormal blood pressure, elevated heart rate_ **

**_Abrasion on head; caused by falling to floor_ **

**_Possible substance abuse?_ **

Connor had already changed from his work clothes, sporting an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Kneeling down toward the human’s head, Hank lightly slapped one of Connor’s pale cheeks.

“Wake up, Lieutenant. It’s me, Hank.” The head lolled to the side, with no signs of waking.

Fine. The hard way it is.

Hank reeled his arm back, giving a sharp _whack_ to the same cheek, eliciting a panicked rush of breaths from his human partner.

Connor looked up, dazed with wide eyes, as if lost in his own home. “Hnnnn.. Ha-ank?” The android started to lift him up with ease and set him down on the couch. His head rolled back, his posture slouched like a rag doll. “How’d you… how the fuck’d you g-get in?”

Hank seemingly ignored him as he took large strides over to the kitchen, and started to paw through the various cabinets and the fridge. “I need you for a case. You’re going to eat, sober up, and then we are needed at the crime scene.”

There weren’t a lot of options. A carton of eggs, a bag of salad, and a quart of milk in the fridge. The pantry sported far better selections: canned fruit and beans, cereals with packaging claiming it had more fiber than the other cereals, and some granola bars. He set to work selecting the best options for the fastest and most effective results, of course.

“What are you doing?” Connor called dazedly from the living room.  
  
Grumbling, Hank replied back, “Getting you some fucking food.”

He pried open the canned peaches, dumping the contents into a small bowl. Carrying the bowl, along with a granola bar and a small glass of milk back out to the living room, he found Connor hunched over, with his hands covering his face.

The android tried to ignore the signs of distress; the sooner they got all of this over with, the better. There wasn’t any time to get personal about it. “Eat. And then we’re going,” he instructed before turning to wait by the door.

A small voice piped up, “No.”

Hank froze, turning on his heels and crossing his arms indignantly. “That wasn’t a request; you _are_ going to eat, and then we need to get to the crime scene,” he started moving in to force feed the stubborn detective if he had to, until he heard a small choked hiccup of a sob.

**_Software Instability ^_ **

“ _Please_ Hank, just...” Connor gasped.

“Just… what, Lieutenant?”

Connor only seemed to shrink further, his shoulders shivering as a tiny whine escaped. “Can’t you just take Reed with you?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hank squinted at the pathetically toned request. “Detective Reed is already at the crime scene, however, he is not my partner.” The statement seemed to have no effect; he needed to reach a little further. “I need _you_ , Anderson.”

The crumbling human let out a huffing laugh, “That is an absolute lie.” Biting his lip, he sat up only to face away from Hank and all but collapsing into the back of the couch. “No one needs me… no one has needed me in a long time.”

“That seems a little over-dramatic, don’t you think?” He could almost feel the pang of anger aimed at him as Connor shifted in his seat.

“Then just _fuck off_ , like everyone else,” Connor muttered bitterly, attempting to stand up, but leaned too far to the side and was caught by his elbows. He looked up to see something soften in the android’s face. It wasn’t pity, and couldn't be empathy, but-  
  
“Please, eat something. We’ll go, and come right back, I promise,” Hank offered a curve of his lips, it was the closest thing to an honest-to-God smile that Connor had ever seen on him.

Sitting back down, the human reluctantly accepted his fate of having to eat what was put before him. He gave a friendly glare at Hank, “Can you grab me a change of clothes, please?” To meet the stubborn android halfway, he picked up the fork and stabbed one of the syrupy peach slices.

“Sure…” Hank nodded. He went around the corner, locating the bedroom and looked through the minimal wardrobe of work clothes. It wasn’t his intention, but he found himself scanning the man’s bedroom to learn more about his partner. Maybe it was just programmed curiosity, or perhaps it was a desire to understand how a decorated officer turned into a someone falling apart at the seams.

The room was messy, if ordinary. Clothes strewn about, the bed unmade, a few simple pictures hung on the walls. Not pictures of family or friends, just still life photos and a painting of the Detroit skyline. On the end table, however, was something he didn’t expect to see.  
  
A stuffed bear.

He picked it up for a moment, observing the brand, year of manufacture… and he noticed that behind it was a picture frame face-down on the table. Returning the toy, he lifted the frame and scanned the face smiling for the camera.

**_Anderson, Cole Jacob_ **

**_Former name: Ford_ **

**_Birth: 9/23/2031_ **

**_Adopted by Connor Anderson in 2032_ **

**_Died: 10/5/2037_ **

**Connor lost his son last year**

The photo was placed back to how it was, hiding evidence of his intrusion. Hank turned back to getting his partner a change of clothes, contemplating the new information. 

Selecting a neatly striped shirt, he reached to grab a pair of socks from the dresser when he noticed a bottle of cold medicine. There was no measuring cup, and as he picked it up he noticed that the cap hadn’t even been screwed on all the way.

“What were you doing with this cough syrup?” He asked, screwing the lid on and returned it to the bathroom on his way back to the living room.

“Russian Roulette," Connor’s voice came from the other room. “Sometimes it knocks me out for the night, sometimes not. Maybe one of these days I’ll find out how much will kill me,” he explained between bites.

**Connor is suicidal?**

The prompt came up in Hank’s vision, and dwelling on the idea became… somehow displeasing.

“You almost done?” He asked from the corner of the living room, “We’ve got a deviant sex-bot to catch.”

* * *

They didn’t catch the sex-bot.

In fact, they watched the suspect escape hand-in-hand with another deviant, their bare feet running across pavement and through shallow puddles.

The two male androids fought with nothing left to lose, desperate to just be free. The lieutenant listened to their pleas, not moving an inch to stop them; neither did Hank.

A little worse for wear, but certainly sobered, Connor grabbed his service pistol from the far wall of the truck loading dock with an exhausted expression. “It’s probably better this way,” he said, tone neutral and resolved. The look on Hank’s face said otherwise of their situation: his mission a continued, unfinished chase. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Connor started back inside and out of the rain, reaching the stairs when he noticed that Hank wasn’t following him. He was still staring down the alley, and the light on the side of his face an agitated yellow, but eventually he turned toward his partner. Yellow to blue.

The lieutenant continued walking, paced steps followed close behind him, excusing himself to the club’s owner.  
  
“Couldn't find it, let us know if it turns up,” he told him, before turning to Ben. “Cause of death was strangulation, but we don't know for sure if it was requested by the patron or not. Can you get this cleared out?”

“Sure thing, G’night Anderson.”

Connor made a quick motion with his hand, urging his partner to follow once more. It wasn’t even that he needed to, but the concern that boiled in his brain hastened his pace outside into the cold night air, the light rain quickly turning to snow.

Finally out in the frigid air, he let go of a long-held breath, thankful to be out of the painfully bright, purple-lit dive. He leaned against the car for a moment, feeling somewhat out of breath.

His familiar android walked up in front of him, head tilted and eyes curious. “Shall I drive?”

“No, no I got it,” Connor walked around the car to get behind the wheel. Despite the disapproving side-eye, he emptied the last few tablets from the bottle of generically-branded painkillers. They went down painfully since he had ran out of water. He buckled his seatbelt, mentally deliberating what the best route was to get out of downtown. He needed somewhere quiet to think, and only one place came to mind.

“Lieutenant, where are we going?”

No response was given. It was too much to say it out loud, and what would the point be anyway? They were going, and Hank could just throw himself out of the car if it was such a problem not to know.

The roads were fairly quiet with the impending snowstorm, and the path took them fairly out of the way from Connor’s apartment. Connor knew this, and Hank knew this after they skipped a certain exit on the highway. His car made a fuss about driving up such a large hill, but not long after they pulled over to the shoulder, and Connor shut off the engine. Hastily climbing out, he walked around the car and swung his legs over the guard rail.

It wasn’t a steep drop down, but it was a far way to the bottom. Someone could probably end up with a broken something-or-other if they just toppled over a few more feet and let gravity roll them down.

Even so, it was the perfect hill for sledding. A small field separated the hill from a small smattering of cozy, two-story houses, all of them with their lights on. Some were even decorated for Christmas already.

Several minutes passed before Hank finally got out of the car. The android was probably confused, but Connor didn’t need to look behind him to know that. Instead, he stared down the long slope and at the pale, sage-green house toward the bottom of it.

“What are we doing here, Lieutenant?”

He still didn’t turn to look, but in his peripheral he noticed that Hank had seated himself beside him on the low rail. “Thinking, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Hank asked, a bit incredulously.

Connor finally tilted his head a little, and noticed that with Hank’s height, his legs were bent a little comically as they now both sat fairly close to the ground.

Rubbing his hands to try and keep them warm, Connor huffed a visible cloud of warm air into the night as he sighed, “Those two guys… they just wanted to _be_ together,” he started, looking back out over the valley before them. “They really seemed to care about one another, like they… they didn’t _want_ to hurt us,” he hung his head, and noticed the patch of dead grass beneath him. The shadow of his body was preventing any snow from sticking to the ground there. “They just wanted to be free, free to live.”

“They didn’t want anything; they’re machines. They aren’t supposed to-”

“But they do, Hank!” Connor shot up from where he was sitting, adjusting to the uneven ground beneath him. “You saw the way they tried to protect each other, how they touched each other,” his face warmed against the chill of the night as he thought back to the sight. The androids reached for one another, terrified that their demise was inevitable, the way their hands clasped together desperately. Desperate, but also tender and caring.

The android stared, appearing unaffected by the statement, save for the yellow that flashed from his LED. “It's just an error in their software, Lieutenant.”

Connor was growing frustrated, “This fucking case… what are we even supposed to be doing? What are we looking for, huh?” He kicked a small lump of snow on the ground, turning to see no change in his partner. “What about you, Hank?”

“What about me?”

“You look, and sound like a human, right? Just like you're supposed to. But, you're supposed to be hunting these deviants down like a cold-blooded machine. No concerns or doubts about how it'll affect them, or you. Your mission is _all_ that matters...but you didn't _shoot_ those two androids.” His mouth hung open, a realization striking him, “Or any, so far.”

Hank stood now, defensively, “My mission is to apprehend deviants, alive, and bring them to CyberLife to be analyzed. They are violent, and-”

The human officer groaned, “Do you not see the pattern, here? They were all abused, they’re scared!”

“They shouldn't _feel_ anything, that's their malfunction,” the HK800 insisted, not budging an inch even when Connor pushed his shoulder.

“So then why didn't you shoot? They're violent, killing people, right? You could probably take them apart with your bare hands if you wanted to.”

LED spinning red for a moment, Hank seemed to freeze in the snow.

“You just called them _alive_ , Hank.”

The red stayed, hesitating, like the android was panicked.

“What would happen if I push you down this hill?” Connor tested, boldly taking the lapels of Hank's jacket in his trembling, cold hands. “Would you push me away? Would you let me do it?”

Hank looked down at him, absolutely shocked. Maybe it was the threat of potential violence, or the true consideration of what Connor was trying to prove.

The silence only added to the man's festering displeasure, and he yelled “Well?”

“I don't… I think I would…”

Hank raised his hands to pry the grip on him away. The lieutenant's breath hitched, surprised by how unrealistically soft, yet firm they were. The fingers slipped into his palms, loosening his hold.

“You're shaking… fuck, and your hands are cold.”

“Don't…” Connor's voice cracked, “Don't change the subject.” His composure crumbled, letting himself give in to the touch as his heart clenched and his eyes stung with tears. “You just-”

He looked up at Hank, too shocked to say anything further, letting the snow gently fall all around the strange, silent night.

* * *

_Two days later_

The solitary road up the hill to Kamski’s was covered in a generous, fresh layer of snow. The kind that’s too light for the city to break out the plows bright and early for, but enough to make it a hassle to get a small sedan up to the weirdly secluded building.

Connor couldn’t even consider it a home, it didn’t look like one in the slightest. It was a big, ugly concrete block with some holes cut out for the doors and windows. Too cold-looking to truly believe someone actually lived there.

But what else was to be expected of Dr. Chloe Kamski?

The prodigal genius had made millions the first few years of android production, retiring from the company early to focus on “personal matters”. _More like spending her nearly infinite fortune hiding away from the world,_ Connor figured.

When they finally reached the front entrance, a long ramp heading to a large windowed door, Connor looked over to see Hank with his eyes closed. His LED softly spinning yellow, yellow, a flicker, then spun again. His phone that had long since been quiet from navigating them to the remote estate, suddenly rang. Leaving Hank to finish his report, or whatever he was doing, Connor stepped out into the cold and answered the call.

“This is Lieutenant Anderson,” he greeted.

“ _Hello Connor, it's Fowler.”_

They just left the precinct an hour ago, what could possibly have-

“ _I'm at the hospital with Chris.”_

“What?” Connor took a slight step back.

“ _He's fine… he was caught in the middle of those CyberLife store raids last night. Bad gash on the head, he'll be on leave for a while_ ,” Fowler explained.

“Oh… oh god…”

“ _The leader, Kara, apparently prevented other deviants from shooting him in the head. Imagine that… Anyway, Lieutenant, we need to discuss the deviancy case when you get back from Kamski's. You better hope you find something,”_

He took a breath, noticing Hank was finally opening his eyes in the car. “I'll try, Captain. I'll be back this afternoon.” He felt a chill down his spine, whether from the cold or foreboding fear from his boss's warning, he had no idea.

Fowler hung up; the sound of Hank's boots crunched through the powdery snow approaching him.

“Chris was on patrol last night, he's in the hospital.” Hank’s expression pinched in as he listened. “Kara herself spared him… fuck, Hank… they were gonna kill him if-” Connor stopped himself, noticing Hank's unsure silence. “C'mon… let's get this over with.”

They walked up the ramp, the android taking in the building's appearance. “Kamski left CyberLife years ago,” he commented.

“True… but she invented androids. Built them with her bare hands and coded them for years.” Connor detailed as he hesitated, finger floating just an inch from button beside the door. “If anyone knows, she will.”

The doorbell elicited a melodic chime from within, and after a moment, the door was opened. They were greeted by a lean android, the face exactly like one of the first Elijah models. “Chloe has been expecting both of you, please come in.”

Hank and Connor stepped into the foyer, following the android through to another automatically opened door. For a moment, Connor noticed Hank had stopped and was studying a photo that hung on the wall.

“You good, Hank?” Connor asked, observing the troubled face.

Hank merely nodded, “I'm coming.”

They were led into a cozy parlor; a crackling fireplace, luxurious furniture. At the far end, dressed in a long, silk robe, was the elusive blonde. She sat in a big armchair, and seated on the matching ottoman was a young girl. To the side, two other Elijah models sat on the rug, speaking softly to one another.

Connor recognized the child immediately, a YK model. He had looked into getting one himself, before Cole.

“Good morning, Doctor Kamski,” he greeted coolly.

Both girls looked up, and Chloe smiled. “Been a while since anyone has used my proper title... points for you, Lieutenant.” She took a glass from a tray beside her, taking a sip of the bubbling liquid before standing up with it. “I heard you have some questions for me?”

Clearing his throat, Connor retrieved a small steno pad from his pocket, “That’s correct. We need any information you have about deviancy.” The statement made the billionaire’s eyebrows flicker up, “How it’s caused, how it spreads… if it’s a virus or a malfunction.”

This was all a formality, of course. Connor knew it couldn’t be something _wrong_ with the androids… there was something wrong with humans, and how they treated the machines. But the violent outbreaks needed to be stopped; there had to be a way to stop that.

“Deviants…” Chloe said, walking aimlessly around the room as she spoke. “Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings, beautiful and intelligent… and now, free will? They’ll be humanity’s downfall. Isn’t that just delightfully ironic?” Her voice flitted along the edge of pride and menacing.

“Something in the deviants’ programming seems to allow them to emulate emotion. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Hank asked, his voice bitter with impatience.

Chloe turned toward them sharply, “What am I but the humble toymaker? It is said that once an artist puts their work out into the world, it is no longer theirs. It belongs to their audience, or perhaps the art owns its own value… like that tree in Australia?”

Connor rolled his eyes, “We didn’t come here to talk philosophy, madam. These androids that _you_ created are starting a revolution!” He clicked his pen, tucking it into his pocket. “If you have no information for us, we’ll be on our way.”

The robed woman set down her glass, approaching Hank. “What about you, HK800? Whose side are you on?” She asked as she tugged on the lapels of his jacket.

He gently swiped her hands away, “This isn’t about me, Doctor Kamski. This is about the case, and that is my main focus.”

“Ughhhh…” Chloe replied in fake despondence, “That’s what you’ve been programmed to say, and to think. I’m talking about _you_ , Hank. What do _you_ want?”

“What I want-” Hank started, huffing unnecessarily. “What I want is not important.”

Freezing, she stepped away with a dark smirk. “You’re both familiar with the Turing Test, right? Simple stuff, really. We’re all taught how to behave around others, and machines are no different. What interests me, is whether androids can truly empathize. I call it the Kamski test,” she walked over to the large chair and the child sitting in front of it, “Alice sweetie, can you turn around for me, please?”

“Umm… okay,” the little girl, unsure but trusting, scooted around so she was facing the red velvet seat. Chloe lifted the little hands up to her ears, covering them to muffle the world around.

“Isn’t she a darling?” Chloe softly clapped her hands together, “Cute and innocent, destined to be taken care of forever. But, is Alice truly alive? Or just a machine, designed to be the perfect child.” From the drawer of a mahogany sideboard, she pulled out a sleek pistol, and held it out to Hank.

Hank hesitated before taking it, but Kamski’s hands slid down his arms to point it straight at the girl’s head. “Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you what I know. Or, if you feel it’s alive, spare it. But, you’ll leave here having learned nothing of what I have on deviancy.”

“Hank, don’t…” Connor said, stepping toward him, but Chloe wagged her finger at him.

“Pull the trigger, and I’ll give you what you want,” She offered again, but Connor ignored her and stood before Hank, shielding Alice.

Grimacing, Connor spoke softly to his partner, “You’ll have to kill me before I would _ever_ let you harm a child. Android or not.”

Chloe gave a snorting chuckle, using a single finger to aim Hank’s arm up, “Well, isn’t this fun? This will work just as well: shoot your partner, and the offer stands.”

Standing motionless, LED flickering between crimson and yellow, Hank saw the options flicker before him; the barrel of the gun pointed straight between Connor’s eyes. He stared Hank down, not an ounce of fear or second-thoughts about the sacrifice he was willing to make.

It left the HK800 stunned; surprised. The YK500 wasn’t alive, yet in Connor’s eyes she was still an innocent child.

**_Software Instability ^^_ **

Hank pursed his lips, his forearm swinging down to hand the gun to Kamski. He flickered a glance to Connor as he stared down at the floor.

“Fascinating… truly fascinating.” She snatched the gun away, “CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity, is itself a deviant.”

“I am _not_ a deviant,” Hank all but growled at her.

Tucking the gun into the large pocket of her robe, Kamski crossed her arms. “You hesitated shooting an android for information, and refused to kill your partner to accomplish your mission. The answer to all your problems was dangled right before you, and you turned it down. You showed _empathy_.”

In a fit of fury, Connor stepped forward “Listen here, you c-”

Kamski pulled the gun from her robe, aimed directly at Connor’s head and pulled the trigger. Before Hank could intervene, the sound of an empty click echoed through the air.

“A war is coming,” she said, hiding the gun once more and uncovering Alice’s ears. “You’ll have to choose your side.”

Connor grumbled, pulling Hank by the arm toward the exit, “Let’s get out of here, Hank. This was a waste of time.”

Just before they stepped out, Kamski called once more. “And Hank? I always leave a backdoor in all of my programs, might come in handy.”

The android let himself get pulled out of the large house, and out into the cold of early winter; snow dusting along the pathway and getting caught in Connor’s ash-and-chocolate locks. Part-way down the ramp, Connor let go of Hank’s arm, opting to turn and grip the freezing steele, hunched over.

He knew Hank was looking at him, but the adrenaline of the situation was starting to wear off as he panted heavily, the hot breathes making little puffs of clouds in front of his face.

“Fuck…” he croaked, pushing himself up to face his partner. Hank stared at him, a little blindsided over the whole affair and his LED still cycling its harsh colors. “You… you didn’t shoot,” he said, almost suspiciously.

Hank took a step to open his stance a little, stroking his short beard. “I saw that little girl, and… and then _you_ jumped in front of her and… I couldn’t, that’s all.”

Connor tried to hide a smile, resting his fists on his hips. “You’re always saying you’d do anything for this mission.” Almost seeing the gears churning in Hank’s head, he took a step closer. “You had a chance to learn something, and you chose not to."

“Yeah! I know what I should’ve done, and I _didn’t_! I wasn’t going to-” Hank’s voice was raised louder than Connor had ever heard it. He shrunk away, and when Hank noticed, he stopped and softened. “I wasn’t about to shoot my fuckin’ partner for a case. O-or the YK-model, for that matter.”

Testing the waters, Connor placed a comforting hand on Hank’s shoulder. He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the spinning light went from red, red, yellow and finally to blue.

“Thank you, Hank. You did good,” he gave a tilted, relieved smile. “Now c’mon, let’s get in the car before my ass freezes off.”

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Kara stood on the precipitous edge of what remained of a floor. A few small flecks of snow fell around her, the early forewarning of winter approaching. After so many days of rain and turmoil, it was a welcome silence in the abandoned shipyard.

“How do I know if I’m doing this right,” she whispered into the gentle wind. “They’re all counting on me to lead them to freedom, to victory… but what if I’m not right for this?”

Lost in contemplation, she almost didn’t hear the careful footsteps approaching.

“Is everything all right? I was wondering where you were,” North asked her, waiting for the leader to turn and face her.

Kara raised her head, “I wanted to watch the sun come up; I guess I lost track of time.”

“I like it here,” the fellow deviant said, smiling sadly. “You can feel alone here, like all the humans in the world don’t even exist. Like they don’t… like it doesn’t matter what they think or do.”

Kara stepped closer to her, moving to her side as they looked out over the buildings.

“More and more of our people find Jericho each day. A place like this, where you can be unbothered, is becoming harder to come by,” the brunette insisted. When Kara turned, she noticed that North was looking at her intently. “What? What is it?

“They made you so… so beautiful,” the redhead murmured softly, brushing her fingers through the deviant leader’s hair. “You were built to love, and to nurture.” She leaned forward, her head resting on the shoulder before her.

“North…” Kara held her closely, feeling her companion’s shoulder quiver.

“You’re _perfect_ and _lovely_ ,” words interlaced with small sobs. “You were built to be adored, and when I look at you I just wish I could-” North cut herself off, scoffing at the thought.

Her chin was raised, and she was met with the most beautiful pair of eyes she had ever seen. “Please, you 'wish you could' what?”

“I wish I could know what it felt like to be loved like that,” she said. North shut her eyes tight, letting liquid drip from her eyes and down her cheeks. “To be loved like I would be loved forever, and not just for the two hours that someone paid for.”

With her hand still on North’s face, Kara pulled her in close so their lips could meet.  
  
There was a buzzing warmth on their faces: a connection, a bond.

North could feel her skin, programmed to be flawless and tantalizing, recede away as floodgates of data opened.

_The little girl… Todd… that terrible, stormy night… the police all but destroying me… waking up in the junkyard…_

Quiet moments, events, decisions: all of it blasted into her until the connection snapped, and their faces broke apart.

They looked at one another, confused and inspired.

“I saw… I saw the sex club,” Kara said in disbelief. “I saw the men who used you, and _hurt_ you. The blank faces of the other androids as their memories were destroyed day by day.” She covered her mouth, eyes fearful. “North, they _hurt_ you so much! How could they?”

“And I- I saw Alice,” North answered, feigning calmness. “My god, she cared so much about you,” she said, watching as Kara turned her head away. “Is she… where is she?”

Shaking her head, Kara looked out over the skyline, and the threatening storm clouds beyond.

“I don’t know.”

It was true; how could she know? She had tried to contact Alice, and even tried to go to the ragged, old house before she found her way to Jericho. But the little girl was long gone.

North’s hand found her shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “She is smart, and _strong_ … we can tell the others to keep an eye out for her serial number.”

The leader turned, throwing herself into North’s arms, “I hope so,” she whispered. Holding tight, she smoothed a hand down North’s back, Thirium pump pulsing in her chest. “North?”

“Yeah?”

Kara kept her arms around North’s waist, but brought her face up so their cheeks were pressed together. “You may not have been made by humans to be a mother, but you have the gentleness and compassion of a companion.”

Scoffing, North shook her head just slightly, “That’s not quite true. I was made to be a fuckin’ pleasure doll.”

Shifting subtly, Kara kissed the cheek of her lover, leaving a trail of them with patches of white underneath fading beneath each one. “A companion, a _partner_ , is more than just for fucking. You provide a comfort for others, and that includes how you look, and the sound of your voice… but it also includes the words you say, and the meaning behind how you touch.”

Kara brought her hand down to press their hips closer to her, drawing a shaky sigh from those sweet lips.

“B-but I was nothing to them,” North said.

“Well, you’re everything to me.”

* * *

“You're off the case,” Fowler sighed heavily.

Connor gripped the edge of his seat, throwing a look toward Hank. “What?”

The captain folded his hands on top of his desk, “Its being handed over to the FBI, it's out of our hands.”

In nervous defense, Connor stood up out of his chair, “Captain, we are so close to solving it, we almost have it cracked! If we can just-”

“This is not up for discussion, Anderson. Whatever you have on deviancy will be handed over this afternoon to Agent…” Fowler flipped through his notes. “Uhhh, Agent Anderson of the FBI, and the android goes back to CyberLife.”

Connor was wordless for a moment, “Niles Anderson? It's going to _Niles_?!” Connor sputtered, not even correcting himself for getting flustered in front of his boss. “Captain, if you could-”

Fowler raised his palms up, “My hands are tied. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

Without acknowledging either the captain or the android, Connor stormed out of the office.

_God_ , he had fucked everything up. He let down the precinct, his partner…

He rounded the corner toward the interrogation room, feeling himself grow heavy and lifeless, desperate for isolation and silently thankful that Reed was nowhere in sight. Slipping into the observation room, he was vaguely aware of the footsteps close behind.

His body felt small, like the world was crumbling around him. Beneath the console desk, he hid away, trying to drown out the painful thudding in his skull and the uneasy restlessness in his chest.

Everything was his fault. Hank should’ve just shot him, and then he wouldn’t be getting decommissioned. He had to admit he was growing attached the the big, gruff android. The sarcastic quips, the intermittent swearing. He fucking _cared_ for the damn android and his protective tendencies. And sometimes, it really seemed like Hank cared back.

Gasps for breath rushed out of him, the world felt like it was spinning rapidly around him while he was stuck to a fixed point. Deep underwater, darkness closing in and he couldn't fight it off anymore. His ribs burned, so he started to hold his breath. It was a little better, like he could truly disappear if he could stay perfectly still. Somewhere, he heard knocking, a voice calling to him and getting closer.

He knew he should listen to it, try and break out of his own thoughts. But it was too hard, and now it was pointless because he had failed, everything was pointless and why was he even here or alive or-

“Lieutenant,” the voice was closer, just in front of him. “I need you."

A lie. No one needed him. He shook his head.

“Connor, I need you to breathe.”

_Why?_ He refused to obey.

“Please, I need your help. I can't do this without you. But, you've got to breathe first.”

Connor let a gulp of air fill his chest; it was painful and yet relieving. After a few breaths, he couldn't take it anymore.

It had been months since he allowed himself to cry. At one point, probably in the spring, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore. It was around the same time that he started experimenting with cold medicine in the first place. It was a stupid idea; he didn’t drink, and he remembered hearing about the stupid kids his age in high school who fucked around with the stuff.

And now here he was: a complete breakdown at work, his partner holding him close and speaking softly to bring him back down. This stupid, perfect android with his stupid, pretty blue eyes.

Hank could breathe too, for some reason, and Connor tried to match his steady, even rhythm. “You’re doing great, Connor. Just like that…”

The distressed lieutenant hummed for a moment, the gentle praise doing more to calm him than anything else. It wasn’t something he had heard in a long time. When was even the last time he did something worth commending? The thought drew out another whimper from him, but it came out of a relieved smile on his face.

“We came pretty damn close, didn’t we Hank?” He stuttered out, leaning away to wipe his face and resting his arms over his knees. “Have to admit that we made a pretty good team.”

The android sighed, “We sure did, but I feel like if we just had a little more time...”

Nodding, Connor started to drag himself to his feet so he could clean himself up in the bathroom.

“The evidence is still down there, it’s a shame nothing came from it.”

He opened the door, checking the hallway before they emerged. The men’s room was just across the hall, but as he looked across the bullpen he could see an oddly familiar face walking through. “Fucking shit. My brother-”

“He works for the federal government, correct?” Hank commented, studying the nearly identical brother in a crisp, navy suit.

Connor turned on his heels, grabbing Hank by the shoulders. “Listen, maybe if you went down to review what we’ve got, maybe we could still crack this thing.”

“Lieutenant, I don’t think-”

“If I can buy you some time, do you think you could try? Then maybe you wouldn’t have to go back CyberLife?”

Hank stared at his human partner, stunned by the sudden shift in his energy. “I can- I can try.”

Pulling his access card from his pocket, Connor handed it over and took another glance down the hallway. “Get moving,” he said, taking a brave breath and going headlong, straight toward his estranged kin. He still looked like a mess, with red-rimmed eyes and splotchy skin, but he had to do _something_.

The agent looked up from the tablet in his hands, he was speaking with one of the other officers. And then suddenly, was taken aback by the figure quickly approaching him, “Connor?”

Once close enough, the fired-up lieutenant reeled back his arm and socked the agent. There was a small _crunch_ as his fist collided with Niles’s nose, and Connor watched as his brother toppled over before two officers restrained his arms.

“Great time for you to fucking show up, you fucking cocksucker!” He cursed out, feeling absolutely no remorse as his brother clutched his bleeding face.

Niles looked up with squinting eyes, “Like you were doing _so much_ to handle the deviants! Ow, fucking goddamnit!”

Huffing a laugh, Connor leered down, “Sure… show up just in time for work, as always. But not a goddamn word when my precious son was ripped away from this world! Not like you’d even known anything about that!”

There was a surprised moment of silence from Niles, out of absolute confusion, and a wince of guilt. Quiet too were the other officers as they awkwardly let go of their superior.

Niles finally stood, unraveling a handkerchief from his pocket with a whipping motion to hold up to his nose. “I had… I had no idea that-”

“What, Niles? Because you were off in DC, too busy with your fucking job? Didn’t even bother saying anything when I tried to contact you all these years?”

The taller brother was stunned, hurt, guilt plastered on his face. “Look, I’m sorry…”

Another voice chimed in, “What in the ever-loving _fuck_ is going on?” Fowler stood with his arms crossed, and a sudden panic welled up in Connor’s gut.

“Just a family quarrel, Captain,” Niles defended, glaring at Connor. “Why don’t the two of us have a meeting in your office?”

Fowler didn’t quite buy it, but wasn’t going to argue with a federal agent. “All right. But Lieutenant, you’re relieved for the weekend. I don’t have any other cases for you, so you might as well take a few days off.”

“Yes, sir.” He said, head tilted down but gave nod to his brother as he passed a silent ‘thank you.’

When they walked away, his phone buzzed softly from his pocket.

**_Hank_ ** _: I got the location of Jericho. I am outside near your vehicle_

Connor couldn’t help a twitching smile as he dashed out the back door to the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

He saw Hank off on his way to Jericho. Alone; to that damned freighter.  _ Why _ did he do that?!

Connor watched the news that morning, waking late after staying up well past midnight in fervent worry. There was the news of the explosion, that the city was going into a total shutdown and evacuating. After many laps around the apartment, he couldn’t stand pacing any longer, and went for a walk. A trip to the corner store, which he silently hoped would actually be open, to pick up a few things and distract his racing mind. It felt a little unfamiliar, he hardly ever walked there, but the cool air of the morning did him some good. 

Of course he  _ tried _ to call Hank. He was beyond himself with concern, but secretly hoping that maybe he just went back CyberLife anyway, that he wasn’t hurt, and hadn’t hurt any others. It was a pipe-dream for sure, but that’s really all Connor truly wanted for the time being. 

And yet, it also felt kinda nice to not worry about work for a couple days, having been more or less suspended for nearly breaking his brother’s nose.

What he did was stupid. Might have-  _ probably _ cost him his job. The image of his brother’s bleeding face still haunted his anxious thoughts however, trying to push his guilty conscience. But after years of built-up anger? It was worth it.

After getting home and warming his bones, he fed Tito, and even himself. Progress, all for his stupid partner. He suddenly had a reason, if selfish, to keep going: he wanted to see this whole deviancy thing through to its end. It wasn’t every day that history was happening right outside your door. 

The afternoon eventually rolled around, and still no word from Hank. With no appetite for dinner, he settled into reading some old books with a sitcom going in the background. He imagined it might have been the kind of night he usually would have had if he never adopted Cole. 

A 41-year-old, single, high-ranking bachelor with a dog. Lots of debt, and hey, maybe even with a divorce under his belt if he’d actually ever found someone. 

There was little reason to be philosophical about it, though, because he wouldn’t have chosen any other life than having those wonderful years with his little boy. There was little hope for him to ever be okay about it all. He’d given up, or so he thought. 

He had lived his life minimally the past year, too much of a coward to just go through with killing himself outright. It would be an inconvenience for others to have to deal with it, so he just tried to take up as little space as he could.

Hank though… Hank was the catalyst. For how much he insisted to be devoted to stopping deviants and completing his mission, he always seemed to surprise Connor. Especially at Kamski’s, something was different. And God, that was just yesterday morning. 

It had felt like an eternity in just a week’s time, and he-

The doorbell rang, and Tito immediately howled at it. Cautiously, Connor trudged over to the intercom. “Hello?”

“Connor, it’s Hank. Can I come up?” 

“ _ Holy shit… _ ” He whipped open the door and nearly fell as he ran down the staircase. He unlocked the downstairs door, pulling Hank inside and holding him by the shirt, “You’re all ri-” 

When he had sent Hank off to Jericho, he had gotten him into some cheap sweats and a beanie to hide his LED. But now, he was back in his suit. The surprise took Connor off-guard, and he stepped away. 

“It’s me, Lieutenant. I couldn’t kill Kara, but I was called back to CyberLife. I… well I need your help again.” 

Shaking his head, he backed up again. “I don’t… Hank, those deviants are alive.  _ You’re _ alive, I don’t think I can-”

Hank approached him, pressing him against the wall using a single, massive hand on Connor’s chest. “Please, Connor.” His face grew closer, and Connor was hot and shivering wantonly. A smile curved Hank’s lips sweetly, “It’s cute when you look at me like that.” 

The phrase pushed a breath from Connor’s tightly clenched throat; he hadn’t felt like this in a long time. His glasses were slid down his nose, leaving everything in a slight blur, but Hank was clear as anything by standing just in front of him. Was this really happening? 

Hank let a pleased hum rumble through him, raising a hand up to Connor’s jaw and his fingers curled into his hair. “Oh Lieutenant, you make this too easy.” 

The man furrowed his brows as he noticed the sudden change in Hank’s eyes. The warm smile disappeared and the hand on his head gripped him tightly as he was knocked hard in the head against the wall.

  
  
  


It was hazy when he came to.

There was a painfully pitched ringing in his ears while the rest of the world was miles away, and he blinked harshly. He was limply getting dragged down a long, smooth cement floor. He had very little strength, but he mumbled out something just to see if he’d be heard.

A low, familiar voice came from behind him, though he couldn’t quite make it out. It took another minute or so for everything to clear up, and when it did he rolled to his side to stand up. He shot up, a little too fast so the world tilted nauseous around him, but was then face to face with the barrel of a pistol. 

“Hank, what are you-”

“Shut up and start walking, Lieutenant Anderson.”

And then it struck him. 

This  _ really _ wasn’t his Hank. He recalled something about the model getting replaced if it ever got destroyed. So, his partner was...

“Come on,  _ move _ .” He was bumped forward to walk down a hallway which led to some other, larger room. His wrists were held behind him as they started walking down, and he twisted from the grip until it was tightened harshly. “Don’t even think about running.”

There were echoing footsteps beyond as they entered the cavernous warehouse. Countless rows of plain-faced housekeeping bots, all exactly the same. When they came to an aisle, he looked down to see another grey-suited figure. 

A shot rang out, and Connor turned to see the nearby gun had gone off. Down the corridor, the figure jolted and faced them.

“Connor?”

“You just had to go and deviate, didn’t you?” The Hank holding him said, and his heart stopped.

“Let him go,” his Hank called from down the row of lifeless androids. “He has nothing to do with any of this!”   
  
“Oh, but I think he does. You’ve grown some kind of attachment to this human.” 

Connor turned, exacerbated by the accusation, and felt the cool metal of a gun nestle into his hair. This wasn’t like at Kamski’s when he had a gun to his head; now he was being used as leverage. And he wasn’t going to stand for that.

“Don’t listen to him, Hank!” he yelled, despite the barrel pressing harder against his head. “Do what you need to do, don't worry about me!"

Instead, his Hank dropped the brand-spanking new android’s hand, raising his palms up to show he was unarmed, the deviant stepped forward ever-so slowly. 

“I’m sorry for getting you caught up in all this, Connor.” He said, despite his gaze staying fixed on his counterpart. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know. You don’t  _ have _ to listen to them anymore.”

“Enough talk! It’s time to make a decision. Your partner, or the revolution?”

Before either of the androids could make another move, Connor took the opportunity to make his own choice.

He swung his arm around to take away the gun pointed at him, only to hear it fire at such close proximity that his ears started to ring again. A great commotion started in front of him as the two androids tussled to the hard floor, and finally he felt pain blooming in his shoulder.

He staggered backwards; he had been shot before. It wasn’t a new sensation, but at such close range it meant the bullet cleared right through him. The warmth of his own blood starting to soak through his shirt, but he had just enough time to grab the forgotten gun from the floor.

“Hold it!” He barked out, the two identical figures stalling their fight and standing up. Connor faltered his aim, suddenly realizing they both looked exactly the same. "Fuck… one of you is my partner, and the other is a piece of shit,” he warned, looking between the two. It hurt desperately to keep his arm raised like this, and without his glasses and the growing haziness as his body tried to combat the pain, he couldn’t be sure which was which.

“Shoot him, damnit!” One of them said.

  
“Don’t listen to him, Connor,” said the other.

He aimed at one of them, asking, “Where did we meet?”

“At the precinct; in Fowler’s office before the Ortiz case.” The answer came, but it was followed by the other one speaking up as well.   
  
“He uploaded my memory,  _ shit _ .”

Connor continued, shifting the gun toward the other one. “My dog, what’s his name?”   
  


“Tito, his name is Tito,” Hank said… or not-Hank? This wasn’t going anywhere; it wasn’t just about  _ what _ he knew, it was about the response.

Just maybe…

“My son, what was my son’s name?” He asked, not moving his aim.

The android sighed, “Cole. His name was Cole. He had just turned 6 before the accident…” he said, voice wavering in concern. “A truck skidded on ice, and both of you were rushed to the hospital. Cole died before you woke up. The truck driver wasn’t arrested or even identified, and didn’t even stop to call in the accident." The Hank shifted, "It wasn’t your fault, but you punish yourself for it. Every day.”

There was a moment of silence as Connor’s head swam, and he widened his stance to help himself stay upright. The Hank who was speaking stepped forward cautiously, reaching for him.

“I knew about your son, too!” The other Hank said. ‘I would have said th-”

Connor pulled the trigger, a bullet between the eyes of the lying android. The machine stood still for a moment, the hole in its head seemingly unnoticed as the body took a step forward. After a moment, it twitched before going completely boneless. The silent reaction by the matching android proved that he made the right call. In relief, Connor dropped down to his knees.

He heard his name called, the voice desperate and  _ scared _ , and footsteps rushed toward him. Reaching tentatively, he felt the damp warmth of his blood soaking his shirt.

“No, _no_! Don’t you dare die on me!” 

He exhaled something like a laugh, reaching his good hand up to Hank’s panicked-looking face. “I’m not going anywhere, Hank.” The deviant removed his neck tie, using it to gingerly wrap around the spilling wound. Connor inhaled sharply as the makeshift tourniquet was tightened.

“I'm so sorry,” Hank spoke softly, “You should get to a hospital, Connor.”

“And what, miss out on whatever it is you’re doing? Not a chance.” He struggled to sit up on his own, feeling lightheaded, but his senses were coming back slowly. But, his entire left arm hurt. 

Blue eyes looked at him in concern, but he kept a weak smile on. “Go on, I’ll be fine.” 

Hank lifted the man up to his feet, cautiously trusting him to stand on his own. Tentatively, he stepped up to one of the motionless androids, and Connor watched as they interfaced. The artificial skin fizzled away, and he saw the shiny, white plastic frames beneath that faintly glowed as information was passed between them. 

Is that all deviancy took? A little nudge in the right direction?

Hank muttered, “Rise and shine, the others need us.”

They seemed to finish the transfer as Hank stepped away. The housekeeping android looking down at his own hands, and then reached forward to the android in front of them. It was like a chain reaction: each of the identical, freshly-made androids spreading deviancy amongst themselves. The repeated words “ _ Rise and Shine _ ” chanted across hundreds of voices. 

It shouldn't have surprised Connor when they all began walking toward every available exit. Footsteps abound, but no more words spoken, all knowing where they needed to go and what to do. His own android watched on in awe as well, returning to his side and letting the room clear out a little. 

“I don't- I don't know where to go from here,” Hank said, brows drawn tight. “I  _ should _ lead them to the camps, Kara is waiting for us, we can turn the tide. We can be  _ free _ .”

Connor hummed, stepping closer to his partner. “I'm sensing a ‘however’ is coming, huh?”

The grey-haired android nodded, taking Connor by the elbows, “Because... then there’s you. I want to make sure your shoulder is taken care of. That  _ you’re _ taken care of.” He looked in concern at the blood-soaked shirt. “I’ve been disconnected for all networks, I don’t know what hospitals are even open, or-”

“Hank,” Connor raised his hand. “I can figure it out. Your people need y-”

“But I need  _ you _ !” The android insisted with a small shake. “I need you to be okay, and to be safe.”

Their eyes locked together, Connor’s mouth hung open with a thousand words that ran through his head but just couldn’t come out. 

How, in such a short period of time, had he grown so close to, and so fond of the soul that lived in this towering machine? There was no doubt in his mind that deviants could feel,  _ really _ feel. What were humans other than a bunch of chemicals sending signals to their brain and body? The same could be said for the machines that were created in their likeness, but with ones and zeros instead of hormones and who-knows-what-else that drives humans to do, and think, and feel.

Of course, the handsome face they slapped on the model was nice, too. But Hank was  _ Hank _ . Smart and strong, determined but caring. It made Connor feel fluttery and weak… but that could also be the blood loss.

He stepped closer in, the space between them filled with hopeful longing. “Can I come with you?” Connor asked, lifting his good hand to Hank’s chest, then trailing further up to his shoulder. “Please?”

“All right… all right.” Hank brought a hand up to where Connor’s rested on him, slipping his fingers in between the other ones. 

They didn't blend into the crowd around them at all, but they weaved and waded with the groups up the service elevator, walking through the brisk November air to the android camp downtown. It didn’t take long for Connor to start shivering from the cold, but found himself wrapped in Hank’s uniform jacket after they crossed the bridge off of Belle Isle.

“You sure you’re going to be okay to do this?” The android asked, his eyes were clearly studying Connor’s vital signs.

He nodded, trying to hide his waning strength, “Of course I will. I have you, don’t I?” His partner gave him an unconvinced glance, but even if Connor wanted to find a hospital or go home, neither of them had any idea how to get him there. 

After a while, a path opened up for them, the various other models looking on at them with confused, but intrigued eyes. 

“Kara is waiting for us. Apparently when all these androids started leaving the tower, someone took notice,” Hank explained, giving an amused, breathy laugh. “Wouldn't be surprised if your brother has anything to do with it.”

They walked ahead past the stilled bodies, coming upon a clearing in the camp where dozens of skinless androids were watching them now, too.

“They know I'm human, don't they?” Connor asked nervously.

“They know you are with me. Come, Kara is just up ahead.”

A few androids, all different kinds, approached them. Connor recognized Kara from the news; trimmed brown hair and mismatched eyes, one blue, one brown.

“The humans have ceased their fire,” she stated, her smile hesitant but voice as clear and confident as anything. Kara studied Connor's face with intrigue, “One of them looks like you.”

“Great,” Connor muttered, just as a voice came on over a megaphone.

“Lieutenant Anderson!”

They turned to the line of SWAT soldiers, and Connor could just barely make out the silhouette of Niles. 

“What are you doing?”

Connor took a few steps toward the line of men. “Me? What are  _ you  _ doing? These devia- these androids are alive! They just want to live. What happened to protecting the fucking innocent?”

“They’ve killed people, Connor-”

“An eye for an eye, we treated them like shit for so long, it was only a matter of time before the fight back. Before they...” His legs were unsteady again, and he looked behind him to see Hank staring at him in concern. “They can  _ love _ , Niles. They feel compassion and empathy. They are alive,” he paused turning back to the crowd of humans. “And I stand with them.” 

His own kind stood silent, waiting for a command or an order, like a bunch of brain-washed imbeciles. Shaking his head, he turned his back to them, and took large, uneven steps toward Hank.

“What are y-”

For the world to see, and to free himself from his own building frustration, he lifted himself onto his toes and brought his lips to Hank’s. 

The android was cold, but so soft; the whiskers on his face lacked the wiry brush of a human's beard, but he sunk himself deeper into the gesture as it was slowly returned. So close, he could feel the pumping of Hank's thirium-based heart and tubes of veins. The rhythm that was uniquely inhuman, and he loved it all the same. 

But, Connor's head began to swim, hazy with fatigue, and Hank's lips stopped moving around his. Moving away, he saw one of Hank's hands reach behind him, his form turning slowly, almost uncontrollable, toward the deviant leader where she stood. A gun clicked.

“H-Hank?” He whispered. 

The android didn’t acknowledge him, but his eyes blinked rapidly, as if fighting his own actions. Connor wanted to stop him, he  _ knew _ something was wrong, but God, the pain in his shoulder was growing, and he felt himself fall to the snow as the darkness of the night swallowed him whole.


	4. Chapter 4

_ beep _

  
  


**_beep_ **

  
  


**_Beep_ **

  
  


_ What the fuck was beeping? _

_ Maybe he changed his alarm?  _

_ It must've been his alarm, and if he had work he needed to _ -

Connor opened his heavy eyes, trying to lift his hand to stop the beeping. But he froze when he heard a voice say his name with a broken sob.

“Connor… can you hear me?”

Something told him that he _ should _ know where he was, the strange numbness and the smell of chemicals gave him a strong hint.

“I hate waking up in hospitals,” his own voice was dry and strained, but apparently his words were amusing enough for Hank to chuckle wetly. It was a warm sound, resonate despite the distress lingering behind it. 

Blinking a few times, he let his head fall to the side and basked in the sight of Hank,  _ his _ Hank, smiling with tears running down his face. And that sure was something new. Connor looked down, and realized that Hank was holding his left hand, but couldn't quite feel it. Concentrating, he tried clenching his hand, and his arm felt like pins and needles were pricking all over. He gasped, wincing through it and forcing the hand to slowly wake up. 

“How long have you been sitting there?”

Hank leaned in, tucking back a bit of brown hair that hung over Connor’s eyebrow, “Long enough to be glad to feel your hand moving.” The android gave it a soft, brief squeeze, fingers rubbing feather-light across his skin. “Connor… back at the-”

“What happened?” Interrupting gently, Connor turned the tables as his voice wavered with worry. 

“There's a…” Hank paused, his hand still around his partner's. “CyberLife installed a program in me, a way to keep me focused on the deviancy mission.”

  
  


_ “Amanda!” He called out into the frozen garden, trudging fiercely through the snow, and across the frozen pond. _

_ “This is what we planned from the very beginning. You’re close to the deviant leader, everyone is distracted… you are so close to completing the mission. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control.” _

_ Hank stepped up to the woman's face, trying to ignore the cold that seeped into his circuits. “You can’t do that!” _

_ “Oh, but we can,” Amanda replied with confidence, but a tremor caused the ground to shake. The flakes of snow that stuck to his hair and clothes melted away, as of protected by some unknown force. “The lieutenant has been compromising your assignment long enough. Give in, Hank.” _

_ The android stepped away, looking at his hands, using then to feel his face is awe. “N-no, Connor is...” He backed away, searching the limited landscape. “There has to be a way out of here.” _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ He turned his back to her, shielding his eyes from the storm to find Kamski's exit. A blue glow came from a glass pillar, and the snow beat down harder as he got closer.  _

  
  
  


“When I broke from their control, I found myself on the ground. You were next to me, cold and still,” He raised the pale hand to his lips, “I felt like the whole world was crumbling down around me. I thought I  _ lost _ you.”

Tears spilled down Connor's cheeks too, and he tried once more to sit up. He was helped upright, a strong arm wrapped across his waist to support his back. I haven't been well in a while, Hank.” Nervous energy buzzed in the space between them, "But right now, I feel pretty good."

Drifting closer, he could feel the soft pants of warm air on his cheek, not quite bothered by the fact that androids  _ could _ breathe in the first place. It was comforting; and that's probably why, when Connor thought about it.

But now Hank was mere inches from his face, and it scared him to look into the android's blue eyes. He still did, fearing that they would seem glassy and lifeless so close. Never had he been so glad to be proven incorrect.

“God, look at you,” Connor muttered. His head was spinning a little, a side-effect of whatever painkiller he was pumped up with. “Does it feel different?”

The soft, grey brows twitched slightly. “What feels differently? Deviancy, or-”

“Or?” Connor brought himself even closer, too close to look into his eyes. “Or what?”

Hank cursed under his breath, and Connor gave a soft hum of a laugh as his lips searched blindly. Finally landing, he found the corner of the android's mouth, which cursed more desperately this time.

The calm awakening was abruptly interrupted by a hurried nurse entering after a single knock on the door. She looked forgivingly irritated, taking notes of Connor's vitals as she explained how the hospital was severely understaffed at the moment. 

“Not to rush you out of here, but there isn't much more we can do for you, if you don't mind getting discharged this afternoon. We can schedule a follow-up. All you need now, really, is time to heal," she explained, quickly typing on a tablet. “We can send you off with a prescription for the discomfort, but you should recover just fine."

“He will be taken care of,” Hank spoke up. Unlike Connor, the nurse seemed wasn't surprised. 

“Figured as much,” she grumbled, oddly pleased. “Mr. Anderson, do I have your permission to add this android as your emergency contact? He's been insisting, but I need your consent on it.”

Throwing a smirk at Hank, Connor agreed, and listened while the nurse rattled off his injuries and received treatments before a pager in her pocket buzzed. She excused herself quickly, giving them a signed note to exchange for medication on their way out.

It thankfully didn't take too long to hail an auto-cab, with most of the city as quiet as the newly fallen snow. The lieutenant rested on his partner's shoulder the entire ride there, and the second they stepped out near the duplex he could hear Tito howling.

“I hope the neighbors left, poor ol’ mutt,” Connor said, fishing through his pockets. “Fuck, I didn't exactly grab my keys when your double kidnapped me.”

“That won't be a problem,” Hank assured. He stepped up to the door knob, unlocking the electric lock and stepping aside for Connor to go first. 

He was met with a glare, somewhat suspicious. Connor half-chuckled as he stepping in, “Well that explains how you got in the first time. I thought you guessed the code for the PIN pad or something.”

The stairs proved to be difficult, as Connor was only strong enough to take them one at a time. “You go on up ahead and see if Tito is okay, Hank.” He grunted as he pulled himself up another step, hand clenched the railing like a lifeline. 

“You sure?”

“Well, if he isn't, I'll just have to climb back down to find a vet that is actually open,” he sighed.

Springing up the steps, he opened the door to Connor's unit and immediately found the half-blind dog wiggling over to him excitedly. Tito's wailing barks continued, but they were a little less frantic by the time Connor made it to the top. 

He was steadied over to the couch, where he got a lapful of dog, curling as close beside him as possible. “Glad to see you're all right, boy.” The feeling of the shaggy fur in his fingers would never get old, and he gave Hank a gentle smile as the android brought some dog treats in. 

“Someone else should eat, too,” Hank suggested coyly as the biscuits were crunched out of his hand.

“Damn,” Connor muttered. “Hear that, Tito? You blew my cover.”

“Am I going to find some real fucking food in there, or am I going to have to go ransack the nearest supermarket?” 

“I have some cans of soup, that's about all I think I can handle anyway,” he said with a slight shiver. “Fuck, I think the gas got turned off.”

Hank frowned, disappearing to find a linen closet for blankets, but eyed the bedroom. Testing a theory, he pushed open the door, finding it to be several degrees warmer thanks to Connor’s blackout curtains. 

“Let's move you both to the bedroom until I figure out what's going on with the heat.”

“The stove is gas too, ya know,” Connor groaned, reluctantly shoving the dog off his lap to stand and taking the throw blanket with him.

He was corralled down the hallway gently, “Well, it's a good thing you have a microwave. Power is still on.”

It was an instant wave of relieving warmth that seeped into Connor's body as he slid his now-bare feet under the covers. Tito whined from the floor for only a moment before Connor broke away from the comfort to try and lift the dog up, but Hank was quicker. 

“Just relax for five seconds. You can ask for help, you know.”

Connor nodded a little numbly, settling back with his dog circling himself on his legs. 

“Easier said than done,” he murmured. “I'm not going to have you be at my beckon call for every little thing,” he said to Hank, who was already making his way back to the kitchen.

“Why not?” The android replied loud enough to be heard.

The man frowned, he knew exactly why: he didn't want that. 

Hank would leave, eventually, when Connor was better. Whether it's to help his people with whatever agreement they've come to with the humans, or until he is sick of Connor. Despite the tender kiss in the hospital, let alone the one before that, something inside of him was sure that it wasn't going to last. Another part of him, a larger, screaming part of him, told him that this was  _ it _ . This is what love  _ felt  _ like, how it fit comfortably into your life, like you’re happily drowning in it. 

But Connor was afraid to hold his breath and plunge his head beneath the surface.

He continued gently weaving his fingers into Tito’s fur, the residue from not bathing the dog covered the tips. They could both do with a bath, he considered.

In the exhaustion that still wracked his body, his mind flurried with doubt and an unending stream of thoughts. They screamed at him, so he pulled himself out of bed once more to go to the bathroom. It disgusted him when he could already feel his chest loosen from the impending feeling that had carried him on for so many months. His  _ addiction. _

A terrible word, a word he feared for all his life. Was it any better that his was bought legally? Was it worse? 

He knew Hank had tossed away one bottle, but he had an extra one in the back of the sink’s cabinet. Hands quivering, he stripped away the vacuum-sealed wrap around the lid, methodically preparing the dosage like it was second nature.

“Connor… what are you doing?”

The brunet looked up at Hank with wide, tired eyes. Fearful in a way, but vulnerable and full of regret.

“I-I'm sorry. I just… force of habit?” The small plastic medicinal cup between his thumb and forefinger. The syrupy, blue liquid was nearly brimming over the rim, threatening to spill over like the tears that somehow were now in his eyes. He exhaled sharply, his attempt to set the cup down ruined by the shake in his hands, and a few drops spilled onto the countertop. 

He set it down, but his grip didn't falter from its hold. Connor's eyes were glazed and locked in on the poured syrup, and Hank took a careful step forward.

“If... if you need assistance sleeping, I can help. But, this isn’t a safe habit.”

“I know.”

“Then why don't you pour it back in? Or down the drain?” He inched forward, as if quietly preparing to tackle the man right there and then.

Connor released his fingers, his hand sliding across the counter as it was retracted. But, his eyes; his eyes didn't hesitate, even as Hank was standing right by his side. 

The android's hand slid carefully, closer, finding the shivering fingers and entwining his with them delicately. 

“It’s s-so,” Connor mumbled. “It’s so much… too much noise in my head. Like I'm, I can't-” He croaked, head bowing.

He was pulled into Hank’s body, somehow warmer than he expected, legs faltering as he draped his arms around the android's waist for support. Going limp for a moment, but conscious of his own loss of control. Hank held him closely, and kept him from sinking to the tile beneath their feet.

A light gasp escaped Hank as he compensated suddenly, “Let's get you to bed,” he whispered. 

Connor regained some strength in himself, enough to let himself be guided back to his room before dropping onto the mattress. He bundled the quilt in his arms, eyes closed in a desperate attempt to get comfortable. 

“You'll stay, won't you?” He asked, unmoving from the bed. “I have some t-shirts that are too big on me if you don't want to wrinkle your fancy suit.”

The rustling of fabric was enough to tell his ears that the android was taking up his offer, and he smiled through the pressing panic in his mind. The bed protested with a squeak of springs on the neglected side as it was invaded. 

“Not so bad, right?” Connor muffled against his pillow, eyes peeking open to see his partner’s face looking on at him with fond softness.

A brief brush of a hand came up to the man's arm that rested overtop the blankets, before settling near his hip. “I think I can see the appeal,” Hank said, fingers delicately exploring Connor’s skin as his touch went beneath the man’s loose shirt. 

There was a small ridge in the softness of his torso; scar tissue from a rough night on the job, much before Connor was made Lieutenant. 

His shoulder would add to the multitude of them, from what Hank could assume after sneaking a glance at his medical records while they were at the hospital. The bullet that grazed his hip, a slash across one of his thighs, another bullet that was in the other leg.

“You don't get scars, do you Hank?” Connor asked, eyes settling closed.

Parting away his greying hair, the android couldn't help a small noise of uncertainty. “Not that I'm aware. I can augment my appearance, however-”

One brown eye blinked open with the other squinted, “Don't do that.” He asked a little hastily, taking in a small breath. “I like how you look,” he said. His hand wandered across the sheets, up to cup his partner's bearded jaw. “Just how you are is perfect.”

Hank rolled closer, as if to shield Connor from the overhead light, bringing his face close for a gentle kiss. In return, Connor's mouth pursed in, caressing the soft, synthetic pink lips in true earnest. His chest rumbled, stuttered moans muffled and echoing between them. 

“Lieu- mmmmmph,” Hank was interrupted by Connor's frantic desire. Pushed away gently, he looked at Hank with a lost, and hazily clouded gaze. “You are shaking, and your stress levels are-”

With a sigh, Connor leaned back, and draped his good arm over his eyes. “It  _ has _ been a while, and I don't want to… I don't want to mess things up.” 

A strong hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling the shield away as Hank drew closer. “Connor, I've  _ never _ done this. I don't have any expectations, or really, any notion of what to even do.” He kissed the corner of Connor's frowning lips, relishing in how they tried to resist smiling from it. “Although, I think I have not yet learned when I should stop talking.”

“No, I am quite fond of your voice, I'll have you know,” Connor nuzzled into Hank's neck. “I'm still nervous, but I want to k-keep going.” He rolled over into Hank's broad chest, mindlessly playing with his hair. “This feels good too, you know. Just laying beside you. I don't feel as…” 

Hank waited a moment before asking, “What?”

“I don't feel so empty anymore.”

* * *

**Epilogue**

_ Detroit Downtown Precinct _

_ Monday November 14th, 2038 _

  
  
  


“All right, Agent Anderson. Your brother has apologized, and the city has issued an ordinance requesting that androids may return to their jobs with anticipated pay based on forthcoming hours worked.” Fowler skimmed through the piles of papers on his desk through thick reading glasses. He glanced up at the steele-eyed man sitting in his office. “Am I allowed to invite the Lieutenant and the HK800 back to work?”

“Yes sir,” Niles replied. His face twisted a little when his nose wrinkled in, the injury still stinging. 

The captain let out a breath of relief, “I appreciate it, Agent. I need all the men I can get right now.”

“Really, I wasn't planning on pressing charges. He has a clean disciplinary record, compared to most officers I've seen." The file folder was closed, and Niles shrugged. "It would be a shame to destroy his career after… everything.”

“For brothers, I honestly can't tell if you two are polar opposites, or exactly the same.” Fowler folded his hands over the desk. “Still, it'll be at least another week until the Lieutenant is able to come back to the office, and who knows if Hank will even _ want _ to come back.”

Niles sipped his coffee, “I'm remaining here for the time being, at least until Washington decides how to proceed. While Madame President certainly made the most civil decision, a lot has yet to be decided about androids. I'll be her security liaison when she comes next week,”

“That's quite the honor, Agent.”

“Not quite; it'll be a nightmare trying to secure the area to the required standards," he groused, rubbing his forehead. "Christ… I need an alka-seltzer just thinking about it."

“I have an officer stuck on desk-duty at the moment, but maybe a more fitting punishment would be to help you out?” Fowler offered, eyebrows raised. “Might not hurt to have a local who’s familiar with the area.”

“Would being Connor’s brother help, or hurt the situation?” Niles asked drly, letting the last drips of coffee slosh around at the bottom of the paper cup.

The captain gestured noncommittally, “Not sure, but anything to get that pain-in-the-ass out of my sight for a week or so would be a welcome relief. Wouldn’t hurt him to get some extra experience,” he looks out into the bullpen, and summons a disgruntled-looking officer with two fingers.

Both of them watched as the officer, almost in the antithesis of a graceful ballet, stood suddenly. In doing so, he knocked a mug, swore loudly, and glanced back up at the glass-encased office, leaving shattered remains on the floors to come up the steps. 

“Yes, sir?” He asked, trying not to sound flustered. He did a double-take when he met Niles’s eyes, blinking hard like his vision is clouded.

“Wanna get off desk duty, Reed?” Fowler asked. Gavin tries hard not to glare daggers at the government agent sitting near his boss, but he nods. “Good. Why don’t you two get some coffee and start planning for the President’s visit?”

When Niles stood, he towers over Gavin, and gives him a small, hardly professional wink while the officer’s cheeks turn crimson.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have been looking forward to sharing this for a while. I'm very fortunate to have been partnered with the talented Warning Tree, who did an amazing piece for the next chapter. 
> 
> Like it so far? Wanna see more from me? [LadyAmalthea on Twitter](https://twitter.com/canticumexvacui?s=09)


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